A Butterfly Flaps Its Wings
by manda600
Summary: Small changes can cause big ripples, starting on the night Robin first walks into MacLaren's. Barney/Robin focused AU based on the butterfly effect.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

* * *

Just a little background on what this story will be so everyone knows what they're getting going in: This is a takeoff on the themes of fate and destiny that are so wrapped up in the concept of HIMYM (and just to state this upfront, as is the case with all my HIMYM writing I do not recognize that AU finale episode and only accept the show from 1.01–9.22). In particular it espouses to the butterfly effect represented best in the Season 4 episode "Right Place Right Time" and the idea that a small change at a specific point in time can result in a rippling effect that alters the course of things down the line. For example, in "Right Place Right Time" Future Ted talks about how if Robin hadn't gotten food poisoning and if he hadn't stopped to look at the magazine of Barney's 200th and so forth then he wouldn't have ended up on that particular corner at just the right time to be stopped by the light and run into Stella, thus getting him the position at Columbia. But my fic also adheres to the idea that certain things have a _higher_ fate too, meaning in this example that if Ted is absolutely meant to be a professor at Columbia then it will happen someway, somehow, even if he hadn't met Stella at that corner. Even if it happens in a completely different way, if something is absolutely meant to be then it will eventually come to be no matter what course you take to get there.

What all of that philosophical groundwork means for this particular story is that it's an alternate universe to what you see in HIMYM, starting out on an alternate path right at the "Pilot" because of one small difference that changes everything. We'll see it spiral from there and see other small changes occur too that start their own rippling effects, and in the process examine what things will turn out differently and what will ultimately still happen. That means this alternate universe will _loosely_ follow several of the same events of the original series (the parts that are absolutely fated to be) BUT because they've all taken off on this alternate path those various events will happen in different, out-of-order, and sometimes twisted ways – some of them sooner, some of them later, some of them not at all, but _all_ of it altered and changed and new things added in by the butterfly effect. Meaning the things that show up in my story from the show are the things I believe were unconditionally predestined to happen to the characters no matter what alternate path and changes occurred.

Also so there's no confusion, nearly everything you know about the background of the main characters remains largely the same except for the following two differences: (1) Barney's job, although there is certainly a connection to the reveal in 9.15; and (2) James is not Barney's biological brother but instead his partner at work. I made this change because I wanted Barney to have a friend and sounding board who isn't a part of the main gang and who can therefore give him unbiased and impartial advice solely looking out for _Barney's_ best interest. That's something that was incredibly lacking in HIMYM and I think would have been extremely helpful to Barney's development. Yes, in canon James sort of filled that purpose at times but I wanted him to be there with Barney on a regular basis in a way that never really happened when they were biological brothers but will happen when they are partners assigned together every day (and, yes, Robin will have someone similar too).

One final thing so there's no disappointment; this is a long-play story so you will not see Barney and Robin get together right away. It's all heading there and it's certainly a Barney/Robin love story fic, but you won't see them dating in chapter two or anything like that. You're going to need to be patient and let it build just like it did on the show.


	2. Partners

"_Never forget that on any day you can step out the front door and your whole life can change forever. _

_Y__ou see, the Universe has a plan and that plan is always in motion. _

_A __butterfly flaps its wings and it starts to rain. It's a scary thought, but it's also kind of wonderful._

_All these little parts of the machine constantly working..."_

* * *

Barney stands near the window of his corporate office looking out at the early September leafs just beginning to change. He's always loved autumn in New York and relishes the fact that his job has kept him here in his home town to experience it one more time. Though tragically it means the end of sundress season, the first signs of fall feel like a cool refreshing respite after the long hot summer. Moreover, the new season brings with it three new months of wide-open promise. And as his motto goes – well, _one_ of his mottos – new is always better.

In that vein, he's taking Ted out tonight to get him laid. Dude hasn't had what he defines as a girlfriend in months. Despite living as the third wheel in Marshall and Lily's world of coupledom that doesn't usually bother Ted as long as he's getting a semi-regular flow of women in and out of his bed. Because while his best friend subscribes to "true love" in a way that makes Barney both scoff and shudder, Ted's no more ready to settle down than he is. Problem is, Ted's been going through a dry spell as of late and it's started to make him moody. But that doesn't change the fact that he's still got plenty of wild oats to sow – and lucky for Ted he has the Barnacle to help him find a new and willing field tonight.

"Hey, Stinson," he hears his partners voice behind him and it draws Barney's attention back into the here and now.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the office, the two of them actually work for the FBI as undercover agents specializing in corporate corruption and espionage cases. They've been assigned at GNB for the past eight years, a long time by any count, but this is a huge international case: insider trading, fraud, money laundering, embezzlement, racketeering, extortion, obstruction of justice, _and_ financial ties with several shady organizations including some suspected terrorist groups. The corruption even goes as high as a handful of congressmen who have a direct ear to the Whitehouse yet are in cahoots with GNB's dirty dealings. Something as big as this requires a lengthy investigation with men deep undercover to gain the trust of the organization, and Barney has done just that, working his way up in in the corrupted division of the company as far as one can go. The senior managers in question don't suspect him in the slightest. He's fully infiltrated their group and become the smooth talking, hard playing, suited up businessman just like the rest of them. But the big boss back at the FBI is getting impatient and there's no way Barney is going to call this investigation without seeing Greg behind bars. He has a personal stake in this case; it's what started his career in the first place and made him who he is today.

"James," Barney greets him expectantly. While he was keeping the executives busy in conference, James was up in Greg's office looking for the latest piece of evidence to be appropriated – secretly, of course – into his FBI file. Their meeting finished five minutes ago at which time Barney sent James a coded warning text. He had no doubt James would get out of there without being caught. The only question is if he got what they were after.

"Did you get the – " Barney cuts himself short when his secretary walks in with a stack of new paperwork. "You can just put it on the desk, Dolores," he instructs her and turns his attention back to James but slightly alters his word choice. "Did you get that file you needed?" he asks meaningfully.

"I did." Barney does a mental fist pump, but then James qualifies it with, "But it wasn't exactly what I expected."

Barney frowns. "Oh?"

"Yeah…..After all that work, I think I'm actually looking for a _different_ month's figures for – " Dolores clears the doorway, shutting it behind her as it seems the two men are talking important business, and James immediately cuts to the chase. "We were wrong about the Wharmpess deal. It's clean."

"Dammit."

"I know," James commiserates. "It's disappointing."

"We need to go back to investigating the execs that were in charge of the Altrucell merger. Take a third and four look. I'm telling you, _that's_ where the body's buried."

"I think you're right," James agrees. "But this means we'll have to confer with Arthur and Blauman tomorrow at headquarters. Let them know he's barking up the wrong tree."

Barney sighs. Arthur was sure the Wharmpess file would be the money shot. Barney never believed it personally; the man's just getting desperate and grasping at straws to finish up this investigation in the next few months. "That's not going to be a fun meeting, is it?"

"No, it is not," James deadpans. "….Especially after the way I left things with Blauman."

Barney grins. "You mean the way you gave him a free sample of the ol' Gibbs lovin at last month's corporate retreat?"

"It wasn't just a sample, my friend. It was an entire buffet."

"And yet you told him you weren't interested in any further shared feasts. Smart move." Barney lifts his hand for a high five that James reluctantly gives.

"It wasn't altogether like that. Blauman's a nice guy, but I'm not sure it's a good idea to get involved with someone you work with."

"Hey, you don't have to justify it to me, bro. You got yours, now – NEXT!" Barney calls. "And you know we can keep em lined up. You take all the guys, I take all the girls. It's a win-win situation."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," James cautiously begins. "You know how I haven't been out there with you in a few weeks."

"I know. It's been Ted and I alone, and sometimes we could use that third heat. But I figured you were just laying low after the Blauman incident."

"No. It's more than that." James holds Barney's eye as he reveals the next part, already knowing his partner isn't going to like it. "I met someone. Tom. He's – well, he's just….I think he's everything I've been looking for. This could really be something, man, and I'd like to have you on board."

Barney groans in disgust. "_James_, not you too. I've already got Marshall to contend with and his balls rolling around in Lily's purse. Now I'm gonna lose another bro to 'love'?" he utters the word with disdain, putting it in air quotes. "And it'll only be a few years before Ted starts getting antsy too. What is it with all of you willingly putting a noose around your necks?"

"Come on, Barney," James says gently, getting real with him. "You know when you say stuff like that _I_ know that you're lying. You forget we went to college together. I knew you before you were _this_," James reminds him, running a hand over Barney's immaculately suited up frame. "I know all about Shannon. I mean that's why we're here, isn't it?"

"Ahp, ahp, ahp," Barney stops him. "You know we don't say that name," he tells him uncomfortably. "…..It reminds me of a time I'm not proud of." Barney looks down, rearranging a Sharper Image toy on his desk that was fine the way it was. "It's embarrassing. And you know I don't do embarrassed. I get awesome instead."

"You _are_ awesome, Barney. But you were awesome before. Just in a different way. That's why we were friends before we were partners. And you don't have to be embarrassed with _me_. You were the first one I came out to. You helped me through that and I helped you when Shannon stomped on your heart like the little bitch I always knew she was," James grins in solidarity. "One's no different than the other."

"I guess," Barney shrugs, but he's smiling again too. "Why don't you come out with us tonight? Marshall and Lily are having some big romantic dinner, the anniversary of the first time they brushed hands or something nauseating like that. It's just gonna be me and Ted at the bar….unless you wanna bring that third heat?"

James laughs. "Did you hear nothing I just said? I'm in a relationship now. I'll still help get you all the tail you want – not that you need my help – but _I'm_ off the market. I'm a one man guy."

"Already? After just a few weeks?"

"It's been a month, and I didn't say we were getting married or anything, but if you want to see where something goes you've gotta keep it in your pants – or, you know, only take it out for the person you're with," James clarifies.

"Ech, monogyny," Barney spits.

"Says the guy who lived that way – monogamously _celibate_, I might add – for his first twenty-three years. But that wasn't natural for you?"

"And what did it get me?" Barney questions, uncharacteristically brooding because James has hit one too many direct targets for comfort.

James clamps a hand on his shoulder, knowing it's time to ease back. "If at first you don't succeed try, try again."

And just like that Barney flips the awesome switch. "Yeah, well, you let me know how that works out with this Tom guy."

James just shakes his head affably. "You just wait, Stinson. One day it's gonna happen to you. You're going to meet a woman who absolutely grabs you by the short and curlies, and I'm gonna sit back and laugh while you write sonnets for her like a lovesick little school boy."

"Pfftt," Barney chokes out a laugh. "You been drinking on the job again, Gibbs? Tonight Ted and I are going out to score some action and there'll be grabbing alright, but no sonnets. Just a good boning and then out by morning."

James only grins, knowing better but leaving it alone. "Better make it a _great_ boning. Cause we're going to get reamed by Arthur tomorrow," he says as he heads out of his office.

Barney grimaces, but puts it out of his mind as he gathers his things to head out for the night. A quick stop for a takeout meatball sub for dinner, then home to grab his pocket-sized _Playbook_, and then on to MacLaren's where he and Ted and going to have one legendary night.

* * *

**AN**: For those readers who are familiar with my other stories, this one is going to be different in length and somewhat in format as well. This is meant to be a more serialized story with the plot occurring in small chunks much like with a TV program's weekly episodes. That will mean shorter, snappier, more action/dialogue driven chapters (and hopefully lead to somewhat frequent updates because this is going to be a long story).

I'll have another chapter coming later this week, but after that will be a short break as I'm taking turns updating stories between this one and "Catching the Clock".


	3. MacLaren's

**MacLaren's**

* * *

"What do you mean you're not coming?" Barney cries in outrage into his cell phone as he rides in the back of a cab on the way to MacLaren's. "Of course you're coming. And you're suiting up!"

"Barney," Ted petulantly protests as he picks at his fried potatoes at the diner down the street from the apartment where he sought refuge after Marshall wanted him to clear out for the night. "Did you not hear me? Marshall is getting engaged tonight. That's game changing."

"_Why_?" Barney questions in exasperation. "Marshall and Lily have been attached at the hip for the past nine years. Why should this change anything?"

"Because it's marriage, Barney. Even you have to admit that's a big deal."

"It's a big _mistake_," he corrects, "but go on."

"Like I said….it's a wakeup call. They're going to get engaged tonight and before you know it their wedding will be here. Where is this going to leave me? Sharing an apartment with a married couple?" Ted speculates. "Being the pathetic, eternally single and depressed live-in nanny when their first kid arrives? This whole thing has made me re-examine my own life. I've got to get it together. I've got to stop fooling around with you and find myself a wife too."

"Seriously, Ted? You think you can just order up a wife the way you order a burger? Even _I_ know it doesn't work like that," Barney says, throwing Ted's words back at him.

"Well it will for me," Ted proclaims, refusing to accept anything else. "It will because _I_ want it to. I'm using the Think System."

"Okay, Professor Hill."

"Hey, being a professor would be awesome."

"No, it wouldn't; that's lame," Barney dismisses. "And you are aware the Think System was a load of crap, right? He just made it up so he could swindle the town and screw the librarian. Mad props to that last part, but the system didn't actually work. And besides, if you're gonna use tricks and schemes to get a woman into bed you've gotta make them up yourself, or at least give credit where credit's due. That's just etiquette – nay, bretiquette. It's basic Bro Code. But no worries. I've brought my travel size copy of the _Playbook_ for you tonight," he assures him, patting his breast pocket. "Phone five!...You didn't do it, did you, Ted? I can tell when you don't do it."

From there it spirals into more and more of Ted's whining about how he needs to get married and find "the One". Barney tunes most of it out, hearing nothing but a low garbled droning, until Ted says, "Marshall's planning out the rest of his life, and what am I doing? Hanging out with Barney Stinson – the biggest, shallowest womanizer in the city – all in the hopes of picking up a bunch of nameless women at best and getting drinks thrown in my face at worst. I'm _not_ going, Barney."

Barney can't pretend it doesn't hurt to hear his self-proclaimed best friend talk about him that way, but then again Ted doesn't know the truth about his past the way that James does. None of them do – not Marshall, Lily or Ted – just like none of them know what he really does for a living. Still, you'd think after all these years Ted would be able to recognize at the very least that he isn't "the shallowest guy in the city" and that he does in fact care deeply about his friends and shows them great loyalty. But Barney brushes those hurt feelings away into that same dark corner where he locks up all of his unspoken pain and he chooses to be awesome instead. It's just what he does. "Yes, you _are_ coming to the bar, Ted…..Alright, I can give on the suiting up part. But it's gonna be your loss. You'll have to take a 5 instead of 6."

"No," Ted laughs in an annoying I'm-humoring-you-because-I'm-above-it-all tone. "I'm done 'taking' women – and while we're at it I'm done labeling them as numbers. I'm going to find a wife and get married; it's happening. Like, _now_. I'm serious about this, Barney. I can't be rating my future wife on a hotness scale, and I can't be out trolling bars with you anymore."

"You act like hanging out with me is the worst thing, like you're doing me some kind of favor, but you love it and we both know it. Marshall getting engaged doesn't magically change that no matter what you want to think now." When Barney's spot-on assessment is still met with silence, he lays out some more brutal honesty. "Tell me this: what else are you doing tonight, Ted? Hanging out at an all-night diner till 2 a.m.?"

"Okay fine. I'll come to MacLaren's. I've got to meet my wife somewhere."

Barney chooses to ignore Ted's continued harping on the wife thing and merely focuses on the first part. "Sweet. I'll be there in ten." Anyway, he can change Ted's mind once he gets him in the bar within range of all those tasty cutlets.

* * *

A half an hour later, Barney's standing at the bar scanning the room, scotch in hand, next to Ted who is sipping his beer morosely in between complaining.

"I'm never going to find her."

Barney rolls his eyes. "You just started looking twenty minutes ago. And in that time you've talked to all of one woman – who happened to be Carl's girlfriend." Sadly, he'd been very wrong about being able to shake Ted out of this whole marriage business as soon as he got him to the bar. The past twenty minutes have, however, taught him what a whining bummer his friend can be.

"But that lone woman _should_ have been the One," Ted laments. "All it takes is just one. And that's how I want it to be. I don't want an endless cycle of pointless dating to search her out. I just want to find her – right now. It should be fate and kismet and all that stuff you see in a movie."

Barney rolls his eyes again, sighing deeply. Ted has been playing this same pity party/tears and violins routine since he got here. Hoping to snap him out of it, he'd promised to be Ted's dedicated wingman tonight, his sole focus devoted exclusively to getting Ted a woman before he so much as set his eyes on anyone for himself. Either Ted goes home with someone first or they both strike out. Unfortunately it's becoming pretty clear that means they're both going home alone, and Barney takes a slug of his scotch to mourn all the sex he won't be having tonight.

Ted earlier criticized that no good ever comes from hanging out with him, and the self-loathing part of Barney that's disgusted by his own behavior – that part James was talking about earlier – in his rare, dark moments is secretly inclined to agree. But another part of Barney – the bitterest, most self-aware part – wonders if the same critique might be applied to Ted. Sometimes the two of them have great fun together, because after all nothing is truly legendary unless your friends are there to see it and experience it with you. But other times – like now – Ted can have this condescending way of treating him like he's the scum of the earth despite the fact that he too often engages in the very same behavior and enjoys it. That's the whole reason they became friends in the first place shortly after Barney took the job at GNB. By then James was fully out and while that meant they could rock a bar or a club from both ways and totally clean house sometimes Barney still had that yearning to 'troll for women', as Ted put it, with someone who could high five over an amazing rack and actually appreciate it. It's the same reason James sometimes goes to gay bars with his other friends who can similarly get excited for how well hung the guy in the corner appears to be. But after losing Dwayne, Barney no longer had any such person to fill that role in his life – and then he met Ted at the urinal and it all fell into place.

The trouble is Ted has developed that tendency to look down on him. Barney knows he doesn't really mean the little insults he makes, and he knows the whole looking down on him thing derives from Ted resenting the parts of Barney that he too possess but wishes _weren't_ there so he could just happily settle into a life mirroring Marshall's. Barney knows all this, but it doesn't mean those insults still can't sting.

And especially now that Ted's gotten on this marriage kick he seems to blame his entire state of being single on _him_, as if it's somehow his fault that Ted would rather casually bang chicks than settle down with just one. Ted finds too many faults in women anyway. The kind of perfect wife he'd be looking for doesn't even exist. And if she did, she'd bore the hell of most men – she's certainly bore the hell out of Barney.

"Maybe Marshall was right to find someone straightaway in college," Ted ponders.

"Ted, will you just give it a rest. The world isn't going to implode and you're not going to die alone just because Marshall is getting engaged tonight and you're still single. Now look over by the far wall," Barney instructs, drawing Ted's attention to the front corner of the bar beyond their usual booth and just to the right of the door to the kitchen. "There's a Lebanese chick over there. I'll let you have her," he entices. "What do I always say about Lebanese chicks?"

"You're always saying something about one group of women or the other. You have way too many rules. I'm not even sure _you_ keep them all straight."

"Fine. Desperate times call for desperate measures." Barney pulls his travel size manual out of his coat pocket. "I'll take you deep into _The_ _Playbook_. I doubt you're ready for it, but these advanced plays when performed correctly get results 83% of the time – and then 'results' again a second and maybe even a third time before you've climbed out her window." He mulls it over, flipping through the book. "How about "The Two Can Play At That Game"?"

Ted ignores him in favor of continuing with his Marshall-fueled, soul-mate-lacking rant. "I _finally_ know what I want. Everything's fallen into place, but it's like 'Here I am, ready to get married'." He stretches his hands out to the bar desperately. "Now where is – " Before he can finish that sentence his phone rings in his pocket. Knowing it can't be Barney, Ted figures it must be a serious call, perhaps even work, and he rushes to answer right away. "Ted speaking."

"Hey, Ted. It's Marshall. Don't freak out, but I'm calling from the emergency room."

"_What_?" Ted asks, doing exactly that. He slides the phone away from his mouth, telling Barney, "Marshall's calling from emergency."

"What happened?" Barney wants to know, concerned for their friend.

"I don't know."

"Well _ask_ him," Barney says at the same time that Ted says, "We need to head over there."

"Oh, okay, yeah. I'll ask him first," Ted resolves.

"Put him on speaker," Barney instructs. Once Ted does, Barney asks into the phone, "Marshall, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's not me; it's Lily. She's gonna be alright but we had a little accident."

What Barney can grasp from Marshall's overly-detailed story – along with frequent interruptions from Ted – is that Lily had a bad day at work. Some kid touched her butt during finger-painting hour and ruined her favorite skirt as well as put a serious damper on art time, Lily's favorite portion of the day, so she was already in a frazzled mood by the time she got to the apartment. She'd started to cook them some gourmet frou-frou dinner, and to get her back into a fully positive and happy mood again Marshall thought he'd ease her nerves with a little pre-celebration champagne. But, as usual, the guy was afraid to open it. They'd started bickering about that and Marshall didn't want to propose in the middle of a fight or when she was annoyed with him, so he decided to just man up and open the bottle himself like she wanted. But apparently he was correct about his incompetence because in the process he hit Lily with the champagne cork directly in the eye, thus their trip to the emergency room.

"Now she's got a scratched cornea and they're making her wear an _eye patch_," Marshall informs them. "Needless to say, the proposal is off for now, so don't mention it to Lily. I want it to be perfect for her, which means it'll just have to wait till some other time. I want to marry Lily more than anything but I guess there's no real hurry. We've already been together for almost a decade. What's a little while longer before we get engaged?"

After assuring Ted there's no point in him coming down to the ER since as soon as the doctor's finished patching Lily up – an unintentional pun that makes both Barney and Marshall crack up – they'll be heading back home themselves, they end the call.

"Huh, what d'ya know?" Barney chuckles to himself. "Maybe Marshall will hit her in the kneecap next time he tries to open a bottle and then we can get her a peg leg too!" He looks to Ted who's staring off into space, failing to appreciate his joke. "I know, I know," Barney sighs. "Where is your wife?"

"_No_," Ted answers slowly. "I was thinking just the opposite: I've been panicking over nothing. Marshall's right; there's no hurry…..And you know something? Hearing that Marshal isn't getting engaged tonight or maybe even at all in the upcoming weeks, I'm actually _relieved_ that things can stay the same and I don't have to rush."

"And do you suppose that means you weren't really ready to settle down yet in the first place?" Barney points out.

"You're probably right. Why should I rush things? What's that you always say about getting married?"

"'Never get married until you're at least thirty', and I stand by that."

"That means I've still got almost a solid year before I even need to start worrying about finding the One," Ted reasons.

"YES!" Barney cheers. "So let's get you laid." He takes a moment to scope out the bar for any new talent that came in while they were busy on the phone or in the few minutes before that when he was drying Ted's tears. While his eyes sweep right, Ted's go left, and in seconds Ted is elbowing him.

"Whoa, Barney. See that girl over there."

Barney directs his attention over to where Ted is staring, and after just one look at her Barney feels everything settle down low and warm in his groin. This mysterious brunette in the green turtleneck is easily the hottest woman he's ever laid eyes on. The lack of skin on display only makes him want to peel away that shirt privately. Already he's imagined having her in at least ten different positions. And more than just physical beauty, she has a sharpness in her expression that tells him this woman isn't the typical attractive dullard he usually beds. No, this girl's got brains too. Even better, he can recognize the little twinkle in her eyes as she notices them noticing her that tells him she's a wildcat in the sack who wants her sex just as wild and kinky as he prefers his. "Oh yeah," Barney sighs, almost a groan. "You just know she likes it dirty."

She must have just gotten here while they were on the phone or he would have noticed her the second she walked in. But now Ted's seen her first and that means by all Bro Code laws he has implied first dibs should he choose to exercise them. And what idiot wouldn't? "So go say hi," Barney encourages, because at least _someone_ should get to experience being with her. "She is _hot_," he reiterates as he takes yet another look.

But none of the salience is there for Ted anymore. Despite seeing her across the room, he's no longer obsessed with fate and the idea of a meet cute from an old movie because the need to keep up and find a woman as quickly as possible so he too can get married like Marshall doesn't exist anymore. And with that objective removed, Barney's right; what he needs is to get laid. It's been a month and a half and ol' Mosby needs some. But this girl, beautiful as she is, appears to be a little too much for what he's after tonight. He'd like to cut to the chase and just get to it. That means he needs a far easier target.

"Nah, she looks busy," Ted decides. "She's with a group of women – which is always a challenge – and, even worse, one of them is crying in the corner. I don't want to get in the middle of that. Not when there are other hot girls in the bar."

"God bless you, Ted. You've been reading my blog!" Barney enthuses. "It looks like I've taught you a thing or three over the years after all."

"That's not from you, Barney. That's just Guy 101….Oh hey, what about her?" he points out a different woman sitting at the other side of the bar who's already giving them the eye. "You've got to admit she's a 10."

Barney gives this new blonde a onceover. "Meh, she's a 7 at most. But that makes her perfect for you." And before Ted can say anything further and Ted-out about the situation, Barney is already playing his favorite game, tapping the blonde on her shoulder and arranging an introduction. "Excuse me, haaave you met Ted?"

Now that his mind is no longer preoccupied with what plans Marshall's making, Ted makes quick work of it. Barney stands back and watches proudly as, within ten minutes, Ted takes off with the 7 to a second location.

All alone and having now fulfilled his wingman duties, Barney focuses on finding _himself_ a little fun for the night. And he immediately turns his sights back to the girl Ted wouldn't say hi to. Ted's loss is his good fortune because the dibs are all _his_ now. Ted couldn't handle that anyway. This woman isn't just a mere 10. She's something like a 20. Far too much for Ted.

A 20. Even _he's_ never been with a 20…..But he has a feeling he's about to scale that mountain.

* * *

**AN**: Some of you may be wondering when we'll hear from Robin but I wanted to establish Barney and his world in the story first since it's there that the very important difference occurs setting them all off on different paths than what we see in the "Pilot". Next chapter will give us Robin's (slightly altered) backstory and from then on we'll start seeing her side of things too.

Also, the very perceptive may have noticed I made Ted slightly older here. I'm fiddling with all of their ages a bit because I didn't really want to start this thing back in 2005 or have it span 8 years, so they're all going to be aged slightly differently. In this AU, Robin, Lily, Marshall, and Ted will all start out the same age, 29, and Barney is 32.


	4. Playing with Fire

**Playing with Fire**

* * *

24 Hours Earlier

* * *

"Robin, are you still here? It's after eight."

Robin looks up from the desk/makeup table of her tiny little walk-in-closet-sized dressing room at Metro News 1 to see Patrice's concerned face staring back at her. "I'm just finishing up on a new story," she says, her fingers typing furiously to get that last line down before she forgets it.

Patrice's expression brightens. "A new story for tomorrow?"

Patrice's misplaced hopefulness effectively deflates Robin's own tenuous enthusiasm and, sighing, she glances back up. "No. Tomorrow I'm still covering the pet fashion show in the park," she acknowledges drearily. "This was something of my own I was hoping to pitch." Who is she kidding, though? No one here is ever going to take her seriously. It's a waste of time trying. "Never mind. It's stupid. You're right; I should just go home."

"I'm sure your story's good, Robin," Patrice puts in brightly. "They'll want you to deliver it on the air if you only let them see it."

At least Patrice takes her seriously, Robin thinks to herself. But Patrice is only a production assistant – as well as her self-appointed position as Robin's part time personal assistant – so fat lot of good it does her professionally speaking. "Thanks, Patrice, but we both know this is a dead end job. All I get are little fluff pieces, and we have all of two viewers to watch them."

"Three," Patrice corrects encouragingly. "_I_ always watch."

"Metro News 1 thanks you for your support," Robin smiles wryly. The truth is they need every viewer they can get since most people have never even heard of the station. She herself hadn't before she got hired.

Robin took the job at Metro News 1 right after she moved to New York. It was the first and _only_ thing she could get in a competitive city but it's turned out to be a far cry from what she dreamed of back at home in Canada.

Her very first day on the job she met Patrice, and the two women couldn't be further opposites. Patrice is optimistic, openly warm, effortlessly congenial, and easily opens up about every little thought, feeling, and emotion. Patrice wears her heart on her sleeve for the whole world to see, whereas Robin keeps hers locked away buried deep inside where no one can touch it so that no one else can ever break it again.

One would never guess the two of them could get on at all, but Patrice was instantly taken with Robin, first and foremost because she's a genuinely nice person and gets on with everyone. But Robin quickly became her special case. The way Patrice sees it, Robin is a strong, competent, intelligent, professional woman worthy of admiration, but there's also something of need and vulnerability in her that was instantly apparent to Patrice. Robin's walls were and still are up – that's plain in the way she acts – but they're up for her own protection. Everything about who Robin is, particularly as she's gotten to know her more, makes Patrice want to help her.

Robin for her part found all the attention and adoration overbearing at first, but a couple weeks into knowing each other Patrice met someone who is now her serious boyfriend and he takes some of that constant focus off of her. With that balance in place, Robin finds it's actually kind of nice having Patrice around as a friend. A work friend anyway. They don't see each other much outside of the studio. She doesn't see _anyone_ much outside of the studio.

"But let's face it," Robin rationalizes. "This story is never going to see the light of day."

"Probably not," Patrice levels with her, sadly. "But that doesn't mean it wasn't deserving."

As she walks past her to grab her laptop case, Robin pats Patrice's shoulder once in the same way she pets her Dalmatian. It's the closest to open affection she ever shows; anything else makes her uncomfortable. "I'm heading home now, so you don't have to worry."

Patrice shakes her head. "I'm still gonna worry. Heading to work and heading back home is all you ever do. There's got to be something more to life than that. We need to find you a boyfriend."

Robin gives her a disappointed look, groaning audibly. "You too? I mean I know you're all about true love and destiny, but you've also been paving a career in a male dominated industry the same as I have. I thought there'd be _something_ of a feminist in you."

"Being a feminist doesn't mean you can't believe in love and marriage," Patrice points out.

And, okay, Robin has to give it to her; she does have a point. "I never said I didn't _believe_ in it. Just that I personally don't need a man to function in life. I hear enough of that point of view from movies, TV shows, and my own mother," Robin adds defensively. "I don't want to hear it from you too."

"Of course you don't _need_ a man, Robin," Patrice laughs gently. "I just _want_ you to have what Joe and I have. I think you want that kind of happiness too, even if you won't admit it to yourself. It can get awfully lonely when you're single. Having someone to be with, finding that kind of love, you don't absolutely have to have it to function, but it _enhances_ your life. It's just like your dogs; you don't need them but it's nice to have them around. Boyfriends are the same way."

"Maybe for some people. Maybe even for me someday," Robin allows. "But I'm not ready for that right now. I'll just stick to my dogs, thanks."

"At least come out with the girls then. Have a _little_ bit more of a social life. Cindy and Chad just broke up so we're all taking her out tomorrow night to this bar she likes, MacLaren's. You should come with us, Robin…..Maybe you'll even meet someone."

"Ugh, what did I literally just say, Patrice?"

"I know. But I haven't seen you with a guy since you moved to New York two months ago. In that time your dogs _can't_ be providing all the companionship a man can."

Robin thinks about that for a moment and Patrice is unfortunately right. She has been going through something of a dry spell, and there are just certain things that even the love of the sweetest puppy – or the nightly attention of even the most high-powered vibrator – can't quite satisfy. "It has been a while….and there _are_ some things I miss," Robin admits.

"Like what?"

"Patrice," Robin smiles waywardly. "They'd make you blush."

"I have a boyfriend," Patrice reminds her. "Maybe one of the things you miss is something _I_ did last night."

"Touché. Alright…." Robin's smile turns decadent as she imagines the things she misses most about having a male bed companion. "One of the things I miss is running my fingers over a man's chest and abs – especially when he's built enough that there's something to run my hands over. But my favorite thing, what I miss most of all – well, besides the main thing, _his_ thing," she smirks, "is that muscle ridge that forms a V just above the hips pointing right down to his good bits. I can't get enough of that…..Or of being taken hard and fast and just – " She stops herself, realizing she's clutching her laptop case to her chest.

"Robin, you _really_ need to come out with us tomorrow," Patrice deadpans.

"Okay, fine. Yes. I need to get laid. So alright, I'll come out to this bar – MacLaren's, is it? – tomorrow night. But I'm not becoming BFFs with the rest of the female staff. And I'm not falling madly in love either," she rolls her eyes. "The only thing I'm falling into is some hot guy's bed."

* * *

Present

* * *

If Robin had any idea how wrong she'd been about tonight she would have went home after work like every other night, sex starved or not.

Because she's been nothing but miserable. What's worse, Patrice came down with the flu this morning and didn't even come to the bar herself, despite insisting _she_ be there. At least with Patrice as a mediator it would have kept her more involved in the conversation with her coworkers. Robin's made an honest effort on her own, but sometimes friendships with women – especially flighty, girly-girl women like these ones – can be trying. And she can't even be on the prowl like she'd hoped when she has to stay here with the group in some kind of anti-male, girl power comradery, drying Cindy's tears with all the others. She's firmly planted herself in their large corner booth like she knows she's expected to do, but her thoughts and focus have drifted as the night wears on.

The first place they drifted to – and where they've been ever since – is on the hot blond up at the bar in the killer suit she saw eyeing her earlier. She can't say how long he's been here or when he first came in because when she herself arrived she was too preoccupied with all the expected but loathed fanfare. Although they see each other on a daily basis, every time the women of the station meet again they greet one another as if it's been ten years. There are hugs, cheek kisses, squeals, simpering little salutations and over-the-top reception all around. And in her case it comes along with excited requests for an explanation as to how she came to be out with them tonight when she usually avoids it like the plague.

By the time the women's attention was off of Robin enough for her eyes to wander without being caught Blondie was by himself up at the bar. His dark-haired friend who she scarcely got a look at since all her focus was on _his_ magnetic blue eyes was nowhere to be found and the suited hottie was instead entertaining himself with the farer sex, talking to what would be the first of many women she'd witness him hit on and vice versa.

It's been fascinating to watch the smoothness with which he operates. She'd say the women never stand a chance but it really doesn't look like they want one.

Oddly enough, however, for all the numbers she's watched this Barney collect – or so he claimed his name to be in one of the come-ons she'd overheard – he's never actually left with any of the women, and more than a time or two she's caught his eyes back over on her_._

….She almost wonders if he's waiting for her, waiting for a chance to take _her_ home since she hasn't left the booth all night and men like him always wait until they've got you separated from the pack before they pounce.

The thought isn't unpleasant to her. Not at all. She came here looking for a one night stand and when she scanned the bar he was easily the one she wanted to go home with. The only one.

She hasn't had sex in too long. _Far_ too long. Robin misses sex. She misses everything about it. She's in the market for something casual and fun, and she has no doubt Hot Guy in the Suit could satisfy her requirements and then some.

But she doesn't want to be a part of anyone's revolving door of bed partners, no matter _how_ hot he is. Maybe that's hypocritical since she herself wants a one night stand – or possibly a laidback, ongoing sexual affair if the guy was right. That appears to be exactly what Blondie's after too, and what's good for the goose is good for the gander; that's always been her rule. Yet even on the prowl for a one night stand she still doesn't want to be just another number to a guy.

And with a guy like this he probably can't even remember what number she'd be.

Still, she's been here for over an hour, the night has been insanely dull….and she finds she can't resist tempting it just a little, playing with fire knowing she absolutely won't get burned because this game will never go any further than the barstool.

Standing up, Robin heads across the room – alone for the first time all night – to order herself a drink, waiting to see if he takes the bait.


	5. Challenge Accepted

**Challenge Accepted**

* * *

From his place near the jukebox where some random woman is attempting to chat him up, Barney's gaze follows Robin's progress up to the bar.

Much as he's wanted an opening from her – figuratively and literally, what up! – the 20, as he's called her in his mind since he first laid eyes on her, has been surrounded all night by a gaggle of females. And he knows from past experience that the group approach is rarely successful. Either you get shot down by one of her girlfriends or one of _them_ wants you instead and the whole thing turns awkward.

Consequently, he's spent the last hour and fifteen minutes biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to talk to her away from the others, and now that the chance has presented itself he nearly sprints across the room – in the most suave and totally not eager way possible, of course.

Barney sidles up beside her at the bar just in time to hear her request to Carl – "Dirty martini" – and he smiles inwardly at the stroke of luck as it gives him the chance to use Approach #3. "Interesting order," he slickly remarks.

Robin turns to find Hottie in the Suit now beside her and she doesn't even attempt to hide her amused smile. "Why?" she shots back, genuinely curious as to where he's going with this. "There are about fifteen women in the bar drinking this very same thing right now."

Already Barney knows from her response that he was correct earlier about her sharpness and brains and he attempts to modify his usual line accordingly. "Yes, but _you_ drinking it is interesting to me….An order says a lot about the person."

"Does it?" she asks.

And there's that knowing amusement again, keeping him on his toes.

"Without question," he replies, still attempting to stick to his usual game, if slightly refined. "Take a person who orders scotch, like myself for instance. Scotch is urbane, sophisticated, and smooth – with a great body for your tongue," he adds with a smirk.

It's a cheesy line but she can't help smiling at it despite herself. With him it's all in the charm of the delivery. He's every bit as much fun as she suspected he'd be from her observations. But she's not prepared to let _him_ know that just yet so she answers with a noncommittal, "Is that right?"

"It's accurate 83% of the time," he states confidently as if it's a well-known scientific fact. "Or 100% of the time in my case. Now you ordering a dirty martini, that implies – "

"Oh I know what you'd say it implies," she interrupts with a laugh.

That throws Barney off. She didn't even let him finish his line – and she's laughing. A woman's laughter is usually a good thing but his 'drink that you ordered' pickup line isn't supposed to be funny. It's supposed to be sexy. But it's clearly not working on this girl. "How do you know what I'd say?" he tests her.

"Because I know guys like you. I know _you_. I know precisely how you work. Why do you think I came over here? I was waiting for you to come hit on me. And just as I thought," she grins boldly, "it took exactly ten seconds."

Barney narrows his eyes at her. This girl is different. Not only is she keeping up with him – which never happens – she's actually forcing _him_ to keep up with _her_. And she's not afraid to cut him down to size. She's a challenge, that's for sure. A rare intellectual challenge. And he _loves_ a challenge. But it's clear that no play, modified or otherwise, is going to work on her. With this woman he needs to be straightforward, just himself with nothing else put on. It's a rarity, a slightly intimidating but tremendously exciting one.

"I apologize; the redhead over there got in my way or I would have been here sooner," he quips, though entirely honestly in this case. "But now your wait is over; I'm here, and I have hit on you. Although you didn't fall for my dirty martini line," he points out since her response makes little sense if she _wanted_ to be hit on by him.

"That's because I'm not drunk," she retorts. And there's that amused little smile again that makes him want to kiss her desperately. "And _I_ actually have a higher IQ than bra size so I doubt I'd fall for your lines anyway."

Talk of her bra size naturally causes his eyes to drift there and the already nearly overpowering urge to kiss her rises tenfold. That's it; he _has_ to be with this woman. He has to experience her at least once. With that in mind, he again answers honestly. "Your IQ is impressive, but so is what's beneath that bra….I could take both out to play tonight. That's what _I've_ been waiting for. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You said you were waiting for me to come to you just like I was waiting to get you alone."

She did admit that, didn't she? But it was for the fun of it, not because she has any intention of actually sleeping with him. "My coworker just went through a breakup and I've been sitting here all night hearing about how Chad did her wrong." Robin shrugs. "I got bored. My mind wandered."

"And it wandered straight to me," Barney smoothly fills in.

"Not for the reasons you think," Robin grins. "I watched you all night," she reveals. "I saw the way you operate. And I've gotta say, it's entertaining. So….I was curious to experience it for myself. But there's no way I'm gonna volunteer to join your three ring circus. And even if I was that naïve – and, let's face it, that stupid – I'm not looking for a relationship or _any_ kind of love connection."

He respects the way she gets straight down to business so he will too. "Well then, I'll keep it simple on all accounts: no relationship, no three ring circus, and definitely no love." He leans in closer, setting his elbow alongside hers against the bar. "Why don't you just come home with me tonight?" he proposes. "I'll even drop my normal 'sex three times before going out to dinner' rule for you. We can stop somewhere and get a bite to eat first before I make you forget your own name."

She shouldn't want him as much as she does, but the reality is she'd like nothing more than to play with him tonight, rolling around in his sheets that smell as good as he does. But wanting doesn't mean doing, not tonight anyway and not with him. "You _are_ intriguing," Robin allows with a soft smile that has him leaning even closer. "But I'm not having a one night stand with you."

"Friends with benefits?" Barney tries.

Robin laughs. "We'd have to be friends first."

He considers that for half a second. "Alright," he decides. "Challenge accepted. So how about I let you in on the play?"

She gives him a cautiously curious look, the smile still dancing on her lips. "What does that mean?"

"Let's be friends then. You find my 'three ring circus', as you put it, so entertaining. Well, I'll let you behind the curtain, show you all my tricks, all the inner workings. You can be in on the game. You're impressed with my work, I can tell. And I respect that." He tilts his head in deference, straightening his tie. "I could always use another bro. It'll actually be quite interesting to have a wing_woman_ for my broings on about town. What do you say?"

Now it's Robin's turn to consider. She ought to throw her drink in his face. At the very least she should walk away, walk out of the bar and never set eyes on him again…..But he _is_ intriguing….Her job's a bore, her social life is nonexistent, she barely even speaks to her family and hardly knows anyone in the city yet. Meeting this cocky, eccentric, and charming mystery man in the suit is the most interesting and exciting thing to happen to her in longer than she cares to admit.

And it's still not like she's going to sleep with him. But he seems like a fun person to be around. Broing about town, is that what he called it? That sort of exhilaration and fun is just what she needs in her life. Patrice wasn't wrong; she _does_ need to get out more often. As serious as she is about her career, work can't be everything.

She sets her martini on the bar, extending her hand to him. "Robin Scherbatsky."

"Barney Stinson," he smiles, taking her hand in his and holding it longer than necessary for a simple introduction before finally letting it go.

Robin wishes she could say she felt nothing when he touched her but that would be the biggest lie she's ever told. She's not going to sleep with him though. She's _not_. She just needs sex badly. That's the only reason she's picturing dragging him into the women's room right now. But she's cool and collected through years' worth of practice and doesn't let any of that inner yearning show. "So that _is_ your real name," she says in cheeky reply.

"I decided to use it tonight," he grins, continually impressed by her quickness. "What about you?"

"I always use my real name." Then she realizes that's not entirely true. "Well…except for the once. But that's a long story."

Barney can smell weakness and titillation a mile away and instantly pounces on that slipped bit of information. "I like long stories, especially sexy ones that involve hot aliases."

"Then this one will disappoint you," she smiles. There is nothing sexy about her squeaky clean years living under her teen alias.

"Try me."

"Uh-uh." Robin shakes her head, quietly adding, "I never tell that story to anyone." She picks up her drink again, taking another sip of the martini.

Barney could keep on after her but there's something about the way she avoids eye contact, something in her entire body language of vulnerability surrounding the subject that lets him know this story – whatever it may be – really does make her uncomfortable. And though he barely knows her, already something tells him that's the last thing he'd ever want to do. "Okay," he backs off. "We all have our skeletons in the closet. I'll let you keep yours," he gently tells her.

She appreciates the way he respects her wishes, not prying any further where she's made clear she doesn't want anyone going. But when she looks up to meet his gaze again it's the hint of empathy and understanding she sees in his eyes that truly surprises her. This man is fun, and charming, and unique, and incredibly hot in his tailored suit. All of that is plain to see. But this one caring look from him revealed there's more going on beneath the surface. A lot more. And she'd like to find out what.

"What skeletons do you have, Barney Stinson?" she asks softly, and despite herself a tone of blatant flirtation slips into her voice. She finds herself leaning just a little closer and she knows lust very well may be written all over her face. Because she'd also like to experience the more obvious attributes hidden beneath that expensive suit. She's not going to let herself, but she can't help wanting it.

Barney watches the way Robin leans just a little more into him and knows he was also right earlier about the little twinkle in her: she wants sex just as much as he does; she likes it wild and kinky the same way he prefers it; and now he can tell that she even wants it with _him_.

The two of them could have so much fun together it's insane. He knows he's going to have to work for it though. But for the first time in a very long time he actually doesn't mind. With her, he has a feeling the getting there is going to be as enjoyable, if not more so, than the actual sex with his usual conquests. And with her, when he finally does get her into bed it's going to be _off the charts_ explosive.

"Let's get out of here," he says, setting down his scotch and nodding towards the door.

Robin's lips form that amused smile again. "I told you, I'm not going to sleep with you."

"Not _yet_, anyway," Barney maintains mischievously. "But relax; I'm just working on the 'friends' part of 'friends with benefits'. I've watched you all night too, and not only were you bored to tears with that laugh fest you've been trapped in but you were also starving. And the party girls over there were only having drinks all night, nothing to eat."

"We came straight from work. I haven't had dinner yet," Robin admits. She'd been wishing for a plate of appetizers for the past hour. Her stomach had growled a time or two back at the booth, but she hadn't even realized just exactly how hungry she is until he just mentioned it now. How can he read her _that_ well, she wonders, a bit unnerved.

"Perfect. I'll fix that." A thought occurs to him and he grins devilishly. "Oh ho-ho! I know just the place. But it's in Brooklyn," he warns, unsure if she'll agree to go with him that far.

"I live in Brooklyn."

"_Awesome_. Cause I know you'll appreciate this….."

As Robin grabs her purse off the bar, heading with Barney out the door, she doesn't have any doubt at all that he's right. The trouble is she already appreciates him way too much for her own good.


	6. Becoming Friends

**Becoming Friends**

* * *

Leading Robin to the one particular table in the little bistro he wanted to show her, Barney explains, "My friend showed me this place a couple weeks ago and he was obsessed with – wait for it….."

He draws her attention to the wall beside their table and Robin looks up, confused. "A blue French horn? Huh. I'll give you it's a little odd, but what's the big deal?

Barney shrugs. "He thought it was avant garde. I told him it looks like a smurf penis."

Robin laughs hysterically at that. "It _does_ look like a smurf penis!"

"Right?" Barney laughs along. "I knew I wasn't the only one."

Once they're settled at the table with drinks and their dinner order has been placed, Robin looks across at Barney. "So," she begins, absently swirling the scotch in her tumbler, "like I said back at the bar, I've watched you all night – "

"And liked what you saw," he interrupts self-assuredly.

"Never said that," she smiles.

"You didn't have to. You followed me to a second location. It's a given."

Robin grins again, but chooses not to answer. "What I was saying is; all the women, all the lines….tell me, Barney, how did you get to be this way?"

"You mean so awesome?"

Despite having only known him for an hour, there's something about him that Robin likes immensely and she laughs. "Okay, I rephrase the question: How did you get to be this _awesome_?"

"I was born this way," Barney replies easily. "But I perfected it through years of 'research'," he adds with air quotes. "On you, I used Approach #3."

"Approach #3?" she questions, amused. "You actually number them?"

"Naturally, like any scientific endeavor," he answers as if it makes the most sense in the world. "And the Drink You Ordered line is Approach #3." He holds a finger up to quickly highlight, "But approaches aren't to be confused with plays, mind you."

"Plays?" Robin ponders aloud. "As in hockey?"

"Hockey?" Barney scoffs, aghast.

"Alright," she corrects, rolling her eyes, "football then, if you prefer. I'm Canadian; hockey is our go-to."

"You're _Canadian_?"

"Mm-hmm," Robin confirms, taking a sip of her drink. "Born and raised in Vancouver."

Having recovered from the initial shock of discovering anything slightly less than awesome about her, Barney nods sympathetically. "But you were lucky enough to get out and become an American citizen now."

"No. I'm here on a work visa."

"So you're _still_ a Canadian citizen?" he questions, appalled.

"Yes."

"But – " He looks across the table at her, baffled. "Why be Canadian when you could be American?"

"Because I _am_ Canadian. It's my home."

"Well," he says after just a second of contemplation, "you're awesome enough that I won't hold it against you."

Robin smiles, shaking her head. "What's so bad about Canada?"

"_Is_ there anything in Canada, besides moose and Zambonis?"

"Okay, forget the Canada bashing," she grins, despite herself. "Let's get back to the original subject. What are these 'plays' of yours that are so different from your basic numbered approaches?"

"Approaches are pick-up lines you use on a woman. I came up with them, so of course they're clever and impossible to resist," he expounds, straightening his tie in a way that Robin's already realized must be a signature move of his. "But they're just basic lines to open up the dialogue. A play is something so much more sophisticated and refined," he tells her, his voice imbued with deference. "A play is a multi-step bamboozle. A hoodwink. The ultimate challenge. It's a work of art, really. And I've perfected an entire book full of them, _The Playbook_. I discuss it at length in my blog."

"You have a blog too?"

"Barney's Blog," he verifies with a proud grin. "I've dedicated my free time – well, my free time that's not spent banging hot chicks – to teaching all the unfortunate men of the world who are less awesome them me – meaning everyone – how to live."

"Barney's Blog, hmm? I'll have to check that out. I'm sure it's fascinating – in a terrifying way." She's about to say more when their dinner arrives. Once the waitress leaves and they're a few bites in, Robin resumes the conversation. "Besides your pickups and your blog, what do you do for a living, Barney?"

Robin's kept him mentally on his toes since he met her and it's been an enjoyable challenge up until this point, but now his subconscious walls lock in place. His career is always a subject that sets off warning bells. Even his closest friends don't know what he actually does for a living. In trademark Barney Stinson fashion he gives her the same reply he gives everyone else: "Please."

Robin blinks at him. "Seriously? You're not going to tell me?"

Again, she's surprised him. All his other friends just accept that response with a shake of the head and move on for the time being, losing interest perhaps a bit insulting quickly. But she's still looking at him expectantly with a touch of annoyance at his enigmatic response. Barney knows she's not about to just let this go….And he finds it's equal parts daunting and surprisingly nice to have someone take such an interest in him. Still, he can't tell her the truth. It's strictly forbidden for a number of reasons. But he's going to have to give her something. "I work at GNB."

GNB? The bank? Robin finds that surprising. He seems too creative and eccentric for such a normal, even slightly mundane career. "You work in finance? I wouldn't have figured you for a numbers guy."

"I'm a big-time numbers guy," Barney smirks. "Into the triple digits now."

Robin levels him with a look. "As in, women you've slept with?"

"As in women I've slept with," he proudly confirms.

"Is that really a bragging point?"

"Oh come now, Scherbatsky." He leans in closer across the table, his expression pure flirtation. "You're not exactly a prude; I can tell."

Robin's more affected by him – particularly by the way he's looking at her – than she'd care to be, and certainly much more than she'd ever admit. But she simply shrugs nonchalantly. "Sure, I have a healthy sex life," she doesn't even bother to deny. "But I don't keep a list – and it's definitely not beyond double digits…..But, hey, who am I to judge?"

"That's why I like you," he winks with a click of his tongue. "And as long as we're on the subject of careers, what about you, Robin? What do you do besides tease men in bars?"

"How exactly did I tease you?" she laughs.

"You were the hottest woman in the bar and you said no," he explains like it's the most obvious thing ever.

She can tell he's kidding but can't resist playfully retorting, "And that makes me a tease? You need some lessons in feminism." He smirks at that and she continues, "But to answer your question, I'm a broadcast journalist. I work for Metro News One."

Barney's expression turns confused. "There's a Metro News One? That's a channel?"

It figures, Robin thinks, sighing. "I'm not surprised you didn't know. No one does. In the numbers game, I'm pretty sure our viewers are in the single digits."

"Well you've just gained one more," he says assertively. "Robin Scherbatsky, I'm gonna catch your every broadcast."

She feels a little thrill of….._something_ at that, at the idea of him out there watching her broadcasts, finding her relevant in a way no one else seems to. On the other hand, once he does watch he'll find out what a nobody she actually is. She supposes it's best to disillusion him with the truth at the outset. "I hope you like fluff pieces then," she says self-deprecatingly but with a hint of genuine discouragement that Barney doesn't miss. "Tomorrow I'm covering a pet fashion show in the park."

"Ooh, really?" he laughs, but files away that bit of knowledge of discontentment with her job.

The conversation continues to flow throughout the rest of their dinner together and it's obvious there's a connection between them. They keep discovering things they have in common and it's clear there's an instinctive understanding of each other. Neither one has ever gotten on so well with someone so quickly. They seem to be kindred spirits.

But it's complicated by the fact that they're both _wildly_ attracted to one another. Standing on the curb outside the restaurant next to the waiting cab, they find themselves at a crucial juncture of just what exactly they will or won't be to each other.

"So," Barney begins, slipping his hands into his pockets, "can I call you sometime?" Robin opens her mouth and he anticipates her, clarifying, "For broings on."

"You are a singular man, Barney Stinson," she smiles. He's like a force of nature, impossible to resist.

"That I am."

"It was almost magic the way you effortlessly collected numbers tonight," she muses. "Like the Pied Piper drawing women in."

"It's funny you should say that because I actually _am_ magic," he rejoins, suddenly shooting a fireball into the air.

"Oh my god! _Barney_," she exclaims, jumping back in surprise. "I hope you don't do that at the bar around alcohol."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" he pouts.

The fact that he honestly doesn't seem to know makes her laugh. "But….I can see how young, drunk coeds find that hot."

"They _do_ line up to throw themselves on my sword."

Robin shakes her head, unable to keep the smile from her lips. "I can't believe women fall for that stuff. 'My penis is a genie'? You _really_ tried that line?"

"And it worked. But before you start empathizing and crying sisterhood, don't you worry; I show them a good time."

"Do you?" Robin questions curiously.

"Absolutely," Barney smoothly assures her, moving in closer. "You don't sleep with a hundred and eighty three women without perfecting the art of the female orgasm – or I should say multiple orgasms."

She smiles. "That sounds like one of the plays you'd use."

He meets her smirk for smirk. "Orgasmologist _is_ page number 20 of the _Playbook_."

"How did I know?" she laughs, helplessly charmed by him in spite of the fact that he's clearly insane.

"But it also happens to be a true story. I _have_ perfected providing the ultimate orgasm."

"Really?" she asks with more interest in her voice than she'd hoped to betray.

Seeing that she's intrigued and even a little aroused, he answers, "Try me sometime and you'll find out. But that's the 'benefits'. We're still working on the 'friends' part….right?" he tempts, leaning into her.

Robin's eyes drift to his lips; she can't help it. She _does_ want him. She'd like to pull him into the cab and enjoy those 'benefits' right here and now. But she shakes herself out of it. She still doesn't want to be a number on his figurative bedpost. Plus he really is pretty awesome, and she enjoys being around him. Barney seems to just instinctively get her, which isn't something she's experienced, well, _ever_. She'd like to keep him around as a friend. It just isn't worth throwing that away for one night of sex – even if with their chemistry it would likely be the best she's ever had.

"Right," she confirms. "We're working on the 'friends' part. But for the record, I wouldn't have cried sisterhood. Those women are old enough to know what they're getting into when they go home with someone they just met and do all the dirty and depraved things I'm sure you do."

"Yeah, but you like it dirty," Barney says, giving her a roughish smile. The moment stretches out between them and he can tell she wants to kiss him. But he can also tell she has no intention of actually doing so. Not now anyway. "….Wanna share the cab?" he proposes.

Robin laughs. "There's no way I'm letting you see where I live."

"Scared?" he challenges in a low provocative tone, reaching up to play with a lock of her hair.

"No. I'd just rather not have you using it as a bang pad when I'm at work. I know enough about you already to know you'd find a way."

"I like the way you think, Scherbatsky," he grins. "And what you just said – the 'already' – means we _are_ going to be friends."

"Yes, you can call me." As she slips him her card, she gets an even better idea. "In fact, I'll meet you at MacLaren's tomorrow night. Why not? What have I got to lose? I still don't have many real friends in the city, just my assistant, and you're way better than the Heartbreak Brigade from the station." She sighs, shaking her head. "It's so tiresome being around women sometimes, listening to them go on and on..."

"Preaching to the choir," he agrees. "That's why I'm out the window as soon as we've gotten off."

"I bet you are," she smirks, opening up the cab's backdoor. "So tomorrow night we run a gambit together? And maybe after I've gotten you a bed partner for the night you can get _me_ a guy for the same thing." If she's going to be hanging around Barney for any time at all she's going to need to take care of this whole sex starved problem ASAP or she's in severe danger of making a meal of him.

"I thought you weren't interested in one night stands?" Barney protests.

"I said I wasn't having a one night stand with _you_," she corrects cheekily.

"That's right," he nods. "Because with me you'll be coming back for seconds and thirds."

Robin smiles, replying playfully, "I'm not sleeping with you."

"She says with a coy twinkle in her eye," he teases.

"Those are just my eyes, Barney."

"They didn't look like that earlier tonight, Robin. The benefits are coming. You'll see. But for now, tomorrow we go big."

"Tomorrow we go big," she agrees, preparing to get into the cab. Alone. "Good night, Barney."

"To the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Humphrey Bogart. Really? I see you as more of a Dean Martin."

"A solid bro, looks great in a suit, known for scoring with the ladies? I take that as a compliment. Besides, I was wrong. This is going to be a _legendary_ friendship. Night, Scherbatsky," he says in sync with her laughter as she steps into the cab.

* * *

**AN**: I'm so sorry for the long break in between updates. I became very ill in the last weeks of July and most of August and even ended up in the hospital with a previously undiagnosed condition. Now I'm on the proper medication and feel like I'm finally on the mend (except for the cold I just caught!). Unfortunately the whole ordeal has left me weeks behind on just about everything, including my writing, but I wanted to quickly update this story because I kind of left it hanging on the last chapter (which was on purpose, as I'd intended to get the following part out in a matter of days).

Now I have to go back and update my other story, "Catching the Clock", because it's been quite a while on that one and I'm making a real effort to take turns between the two on updates as I still have a heart for them both, the canon story and my new AU. So, regrettably, there will be another short break on this one, but please check out my other story if you haven't already.


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